


A Stolen Place

by Karios



Category: Forever (TV 2014)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Food Poisoning, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Meet-Cute, Mild Period-Typical Homophobia, Sickfic, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2020-12-27 02:42:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21111353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Karios/pseuds/Karios
Summary: We know how James and Henry's story ends; this is how it begins. With books, and curiosity, and a meal at Delmonico's that doesn't go as planned.





	A Stolen Place

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ArgylePirateWD](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArgylePirateWD/gifts).

> Thanks to ashling for betaing.

James and Henry met for the first time in a book shop. Henry was muttering to himself in the medical section, as he opened, flipped through, and replaced various books in an attempt to confirm his latest hunch.

His mind was multitasking: reviewing the troubling case, forming his retort for when the ever-increasingly irate book seller inevitably informed him that this was not a lending library, and chasing some half-remembered wisp of thought. He looked up from the shelves and spied a young man across the store, hunched over the newest fiction. Henry's thoughts scattered like wind-blown leaves as he took in the young man’s exuberant smile. He’d always been caught by smiles, and this one emanated a lightness that drew Henry in.

His grin didn't dim when he caught Henry staring either. Instead, he crossed the store, one hand out to shake, and the other carrying his purchase, a Conrad novel. He introduced himself, “Hello, I'm James Carter.” Then stepped in close so he could speak quietly: “I'm hoping you’re staring because you're not sure how to start a conversation and not because you’ve discovered I'm dying from across the room.”

Henry's gaze turned from admiring to puzzled, as he shook James's hand. 

“Your reputation for instant diagnosis precedes you, Dr. Morgan,” James explained.

“Then you have me at a disadvantage, because I don't know anything about you yet, other than a possible penchant for tragic literature.” Henry nodded at the book.

James shrugged. “Nothing the matter with a tragic ending, so long as there's an adventure to be had first. Have you read it?”

Henry shook his head. “I never have much time for fiction. But I know Conrad by reputation, too brooding.”

“I like brooding,” James asserted. “Do you make time for drinks, at least?”

“On occasion.”

“Good. Let us toast our newfound friendship then,” James suggested before all but steering Henry down the aisle and out the shop’s front door. 

Seized by the surprise of it, Henry allowed himself to be led that far before returning to his senses. “See here, I was in the middle of something.”

“It can't have been that important, or you wouldn't have stopped to talk to me.” James had already reasoned that Henry needed a break, and was prepared to argue for it.

Henry laughed. “You are a most peculiar man, Carter.”

“James, and you don't have the half of it, Doctor.”

“Please, James, call me Henry.”

“All right, Henry.” James smiled at him again, and Henry was already smitten. Damn it all.

It was ridiculous and reckless, inadvisable and impulsive to be thinking that way before he’d even sorted out James's proclivities.

Still, Henry went for drinks, sternly warning himself to not get his hopes up on the way there.

It didn't help, of course, but trying counted for something.

* * *

Henry didn't know that James spent the next several weeks attempting that guessing game as well, trying to calculate how Henry reacted his casual touches and ambiguous comments. He was trying to tread carefully; being wrong about this could prove fatal, even if Henry had never seemed the violent sort.

Mostly, Henry seemed lonely and sad. James wanted desperately to chase away some of the pain that seemed to perpetually hang over Henry, if he could.

It’s that thought that spurred him into a foolhardy plan. It was easy to pretend to be a little bit too drunk after an evening of billiards with their friends and Henry did the work of offering to escort him home safely so all that remained was gathering his courage.

James leaned on Henry heavily as they tromped through the street, savoring the warmth of his closeness, memorizing the scent of his skin and shampoo mingling with the crisp night air, just in case.

“Enjoyed your scotch tonight?” Henry asked with a chuckle, giving him an opening.

James overplayed the nod. “I did. I like a great many things, you know.”

“Oh?”

James hummed affirmatively. “A well-aged steak, a raucous night out, a good book.” He took a deep breath and whispered. “Older men.” Following the declaration, he reluctantly pulled himself off Henry and stumbled a short distance away.

Thankfully when Henry turned to face him, he looked relieved. “All the more reason to get you home quickly then.”

Later, pushed up a wall in James’s apartment, somewhere between their third and fiftieth kiss, Henry looked at him through half-lidded eyes and said, “Good trick that. Feigning drunkenness.”

“If you knew, why you’d let me do it?” James trailed one finger down the bridge of Henry's nose.

“It was a convenient excuse to be alone with you for one thing, and it kept you close.” Henry pulled him in by the lapels for another round of lengthy kisses.

“How’d you know?” 

"Your slur overexaggrated certain phonemes—that's bits of sound—as though it were a conscious effort rather than an unintended effect. Your pupil dilation rate was fairly normal when we stepped from the bright light of the bar, they expanded to take the night surroundings. But mostly because I spend a great deal of our time together watching you as often as I can so I know that you hadn't had near—"

The rest of Henry's words were cut short as James clutched fistfulls of Henry's hair, and threw himself against Henry again.

They started planning an evening together before Henry even left that night, slipping away in the predawn hours. For as much as Henry should have been glad for the necessary impermanence and distance required in a clandestine relationship, his good sense of self-preservation did not outweigh the romantic in him yet.

James, for better or worse, encouraged his least wise impulses.

* * *

The end result of their plotting was a low-lit table in the corner of Delmonico's where James ordered the filet and Henry had the oysters. They shared a basket of warm bread and the thinnest veneer of plausible deniability about the nature of the meal. They talked (almost) freely about everything and nothing, their work, their childhoods, travel. Henry strove to include as much truth as he could, and had nearly convinced himself it was guilt that soured his stomach. Until James turned an expression full of concern on him.

“Henry, you appear to be sweating.”

Henry patted his forehead and came away with a damp cloth. “I’m suddenly not feeling very well. Perhaps it's best if I see myself home.”

“I’ll come with you,” James said. “It would be terrible for business if our neighbors were to see their doctor collapsed in the middle of the street.”

Henry nodded in acknowledgement of the joke and offer both, earnestly grateful for the assistance.

They got more than halfway to their destination before Henry lost some of his stomach contents to the street, only just missing James's shoes.

“Shame,” James said with a shake of his head. “I was looking forward to complimenting you on your performance.”

Henry groaned, clutching his middle. “No ruse here, unfortunately.”

“I can see that now. Let's get you to bed.”

Once home again, Henry sped for the toilet. Kneeling there, Henry let loose a string of oaths against a variety of deities of the past and present who could be potentially responsible for his bad luck.

“Careful, Henry. Someone might actually mistake you for a religious man with all of that talk.” James’s playful warning was accompanied by a broad smile that would normally have made Henry’s stomach flip much more pleasantly, if it were not already doing quite the circus routine.

"Hardly. I am the same heathen who spent all night admiring you, but it won't stop me from wishing there was someone out there to take mercy on my wretched soul and put me out of my misery," Henry countered. Seconds later, another torrent of vomit left his mouth. Once the heaving had subsided, he mopped his lips with a handkerchief and then shifted to rest his head against the cool porcelain.

A laugh sounded from behind him. “Come now, Henry, you are clearly much too young a man to die,” James objected.

"I pointedly disagree with that assessment," Henry replied then grimaced against a fresh wave of stomach pain.

James joined Henry on the floor, running a hand through his lover's hair to push the sweat damp strands from his face, and then trailed his fingers down the back of Henry's head then past his neck and shoulders to slow circles across Henry’s back. "Dreadfully sorry to disappoint you, but it looks like you're stuck among the land of the living for now," James said dryly. "Think it's safe to pry you away from there yet?"

Henry nodded weakly. James stood up first, helped gather Henry off the floor, and then half-walked, half-carried Henry to bed, where he sank into the mattress gratefully. Somewhat settled, he let his eyes slide shut as James bustled about his rooms. A moment later, he was nudged awake, a tablet in James's one hand and a glass of water in the other. Henry eyed them warily.

"A Papoid from the fine scientific minds at Johnson's and tepid water to rinse your mouth if you intend on having me anywhere near it again for the remainder of the evening." 

Henry managed a small smile in spite of his discomfort, mostly out of gratitude as he accepted the proffered items. James propped Henry up temporarily and supported Henry’s back to ease the struggle in swallowing the medicine, swishing and rinsing. Once Henry had finished, James eased Henry back down on the bed once more, dumped the contents of the glass down the toilet and flushed it, before crossing back to the bed.

The mattress dipped as he settled in behind Henry, drawing his ailing lover into his arms.

Henry snuggled into the embrace for a moment, then sighed. "I'm sorry to have ruined our evening."

"So much for the aphrodisiac qualities of oysters, or are you just this sloppy of a drunk?" teased James.

"Definitely the oysters." Henry's stomach rolled in agreement. "But, as I was saying, I know this wasn't the end of the evening we were hoping for, and while I appreciate everything you've done so far there's no need for you to put yourself out further."

"Henry," James admonished. His one hand crept lower to rub along Henry's belly, his fingers kneading at the tense knots Henry’s abdominal muscles had made of themselves. His other hand snaked to twine Henry's fingers with his own, squeezing gently. "It's no more than you would do for me. And not just because you're the finest doctor I know, but because you're a good _friend_."

James had a way of emphasizing that perfectly innocuous word which twisted it into something deliciously filthy in his mouth. To the point where was likely to get them imprisoned or killed if James let it slip in the wrong company, and yet, Henry couldn't bring himself to discourage his lover’s bravery and enthusiasm. 

The combination of James's touch and his insistence was reassuring and soothing. Still, Henry felt guilty wasting a moment of their time together when it was so hard to find somewhere they could be alone. "I suppose you have me there. But—"

James cut him off. "No. No caveats. Have you considered that there's a blessing to be found in all this?"

"What possible turn of good fortune can there be here?" 

"A visibly ailing friend is a perfectly good excuse for me to have remained here." In spite of the fact that they were very much alone in the apartment, James elected to whisper the next bit: "With you. All. Night. Long."

Henry shivered at the desire underscoring James's words even if he was in no condition to act on them.

James went on, "Do you have any idea how long I've waited for an opportunity to wake up next to you in the morning?"

"I have some idea," Henry's eyes briefly glinted with the same hunger, but the look waned as Henry turned green. James jumped into action and tugged a bucket under Henry's chin just in time for Henry to make use of it again. “I officially hate oysters and gin,” he muttered as he sank back against the pillows.

“If it's any consolation, I’d say the disdain appears to be mutual,” James said as he lugged the bucket to the sink, and then emptied it. 

"That's not particularly helpful, no." Henry slung an arm over his eyes. Part of him wished James had wanted to leave. At least then Henry would have the option of the faster route out of this discomfort. He dismissed the thought nearly as quickly it rose up. Even if James did decide to leave and Henry could find the energy to dispatch himself, it was getting to be too cold in the year for late-night swimming. Especially not without the promise of towels and dry clothes waiting for him when he managed to get out of the water. 

A small voice inside Henry nagged, “It could be different if James knew." As awful as his experience had been where Nora was concerned, the priest had proved not everyone would react badly. Their relationship alone was proof enough alone that James had experience keeping a secret. Furthermore, James was open-minded and curious. He had all the right qualities to both believe and safeguard the truth. All the same, the wounds and fear were too fresh in Henry’s mind to consider it seriously.

Henry's name sounded suddenly urgent from James's lips, and Henry startled. “Sorry.”

“I thought I might have lost you,” James said, pressing a kiss to the bridge of Henry’s nose.

“I'm not going anywhere. Tonight, as promised, is all yours.”

“Just tonight?” James frowned as he crawled back into place, carefully wrapping an arm around Henry's waist. “Surely I’ve earned more of your time than that.”

Henry leaned into James’s touch. “You can't earn that which I would give you freely.” Henry turned to face him. “It's just that my life...doesn't lend itself to long-term commitments.”

James might not have been a master of observation of Henry's caliber, but he could sense that the fear there in Henry's eyes was borne of a secret as equally well-guarded as the one they shared, and likely as painful. James ached for him. “Life holds no guarantees, Henry, and I ask none of you. Just know that I plan to be with you as long as our adventure allows.”

"As long as we can then," Henry agreed, the words tinged with exhaustion.

James smiled as he brushed the hair from Henry's eyes, watched his breathing grow even and slow. For this moment held the promise of tomorrow together and held Henry in peace. That was more than enough.


End file.
